


All I Want For Christmas

by shaggydogstail



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Humour, M/M, MWPP, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 21:11:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8816380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaggydogstail/pseuds/shaggydogstail
Summary: Originally written for joint_gifts on LJ, for the prompt: "Marauders Era, James is FINALLY dating Lily, begs the other Marauders for help buying a Christmas gift, Remus and Sirius discover that they love each other because of something said during the shopping trip(s), extra hugs for a slightly annoying Peter suggesting really bad gifts. Fluff/Smut R or NC17"  That's pretty much what this is.





	

‘Gentlemen, your attention please,’ announced James self-importantly, standing up on his trunk and gesticulating wildly. ‘This fine day brings with it a quest, a task of uppermost importance and life-enhancing significance. To wit, the purchasing a gift of such munificence, such elegance, and such romantic wonderment that it will secure the heart of fair Evans forevermore.’

Sirius looked at his friend intently, head cocked to one side. ‘Imperius Curse?’ he supplied helpfully. James snorted.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Padfoot,’ said Remus solemnly, ‘Of course Prongs isn’t going to use an Unforgivable Curse on Evans.’

‘Well, quite—’ 

‘He’s going to put Amortentia in her Christmas pudding.’

‘Oi!’ James huffed and jumped down from his trunk. ‘Fine friends you are. Wormtail, you understand what I mean, don’t you?’

‘’Course,’ grinned Wormtail. ‘You want to find the biggest, showiest, most extravagant gift that Hogsmeade has to offer, to secure Evans’ affections beyond the New Year.’

‘Precisely,’ grinned James triumphantly.

The other three exchanged glances. ‘Bribery,’ they chorused.

‘Pfft,’ sputtered James indignantly. ‘Point is, are you miserable bastards going to help me or not?’

‘Do we have a choice about this?’ asked Sirius. ‘Do we really, Prongs?’

‘Not if you don’t want me to give McGonagall your testicles as earrings, no,’ said James.

‘Kitty can have any part of me she likes for Christmas,’ said Sirius, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. ‘Although she’d enjoy them more if they remained attached to my person.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that,’ muttered Remus. ‘Prongs, if we’re going to Hogsmeade, you’d better get dressed.’

‘I _am_ dressed!’ insisted James, indicating the purple track-suit bottoms and ladies T-shirt that were the result of his enthusiastic, but spectacularly badly informed forays into the world of Muggle fashion.

‘If you say so,’ said Remus. ‘Mind you put a jumper on, though, or you’ll catch a death of cold.’

‘Yeah, Prongs, put your jumper on,’ teased Sirius, poking his tongue out in an imitation of an annoying six year old, ‘and don’t forget to brush your teeth and wash behind your ears.’

‘Be quiet, Padfoot,’ Remus admonished him. ‘And don’t forget your mittens. I don’t want you trying to warm your hands up by putting them in my pockets again.’

‘Ah, what would we do without you,’ said Peter affectionately, wrapping an inordinately long scarf around his neck. ‘Moony: our very own mother hen.’

‘I’m not a mother hen!’ scoffed Remus, having to raise his voice to be heard over the chicken impressions James and Peter were performing up and down the dorm.

‘Oh, but you are,’ grinned Sirius, clutching Remus’ arms and swooning dramatically. ‘Cluck me, Moony; cluck me like you’ve never clucked me before.’

‘Idiot,’ said Remus affectionately, slapping Sirius around the face with his own mittens.

‘Ugh,’ Sirius complained, wiping his mouth as they trooped out of the dorm. ‘’S’all woolly.’

~*~

Results of the Marauders’ trip to Hogsmeade, the second Saturday in December, 1976:

Number of Chocolate Frogs purchased – 47  
Number of shops the party were forcibly removed from – 2  
Number of bottles of Butterbeer consumed – 20  
Number of near-fights averted – 4  
Number of fights not averted, with gratuitous violence ensuing – 1  
Number of nights detention earned – 5 (James), 6 (Sirius), 4 (Peter), 7 (Remus)  
Amount of time spent bemoaning why it doesn’t pay to be a peacekeeper – 45 minutes  
Number of presents purchased for the lovely Miss Evans – 0

~*~

‘This is a complete fucking disaster!’ wailed James, collapsing onto a sofa by the fire in the Gryffindor common room later that evening. ‘There has never been such a disastrous shopping trip in the entire history of shopping trips.’

‘Told you, you should have listened to Wormtail and bought the novelty Exploding Snap cards while you had the chance,’ said Sirius, shaking snow off his hair and onto James’ face.

‘The ones with the girls that take their clothes off when you win a round?’ asked Remus. ‘I think James might have had a point about Evans not appreciating them.’

Sirius shrugged. ‘Actually, I think you’d have more to worry about if Evans _did_ appreciate them.’

‘If Evans did appreciate what?’ said a voice from the doorway. James hid behind a cushion, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘disaster.’

‘We were just talking about Christmas presents,’ said Remus, looking up at Lily as she and her friends trudged snow across the Common Room.

‘Sirius has been telling James all day that you’ll dump him if he doesn’t get you a decent present,’ added Peter gleefully.

Lily rolled her eyes. ‘James doesn’t need to worry about that,’ she said.

‘Really?’ asked James, peaking out from behind his cushion.

‘’Course not,’ grinned Lily. ‘I mean, what sort of a loser wouldn’t be able to come up with a decent present for the girl he’s been pursuing for all these years? James isn’t that pathetic.’

‘Well, quite,’ snickered Sirius.

‘I’ve got every faith in you, James,’ Lily added with a wink. ‘See you later, boys!’

She and her friends disappeared up the stairs to the girl’s dormitory, laughing as they went. ‘Even more disaster!’ exclaimed James. ‘And you’re not much help, disgrace to the name of best friend that you are,’ he added, throwing the cushion at Sirius.

‘Never fear, Prongs, Uncle Padfoot is here,’ said Sirius, sitting down on the sofa and patting James on knee. They ignored Remus and Peter’s groans as James looked at Sirius with an expression of trust undiminished by experience. ‘Our mistake was to think that a suitable gift for such a fine woman as Evans could be found within the parochial confines of Hogsmeade,’ Sirius explained. ‘We need to cast our net further afield.’

‘Please don’t say you’re going to try to set up another illegal Portkey to Paris,’ sighed Remus. ‘Wormtail’s only just managed to get the smell of garlic out of his pants as it is.’

‘Well, I was going to suggest going shopping in London over the holidays,’ said Sirius. ‘Now that you come to mention it, though—’

‘London sounds perfect,’ interrupted Remus quickly. ‘Brilliant, in fact. You’re inspired, Padfoot.’

‘Complete bloody genius,’ added Peter, nodding vigorously while Sirius beamed triumphantly.

‘So, you’ll come?’ asked James, looking much more cheerful all of a sudden.

‘Er…you’ll be all right with Padfoot, won’t you?’ asked Peter nervously.

‘Yeah, it doesn’t take four of us to choose a Christmas present for Evans,’ added Remus.

‘No, we all have to go,’ said Sirius firmly. ‘One for all and all for one and all that. Right, Prongsie?’

‘Right,’ agreed James.

So that was that.

~*~

‘Remind me again why you decided to drag us along for this insanity,’ said Remus miserably as he, Sirius and Peter trudged through the sleet on their way to meet James in the Leaky Cauldron. It was the day before Christmas Eve, and the entire population of London appeared to be braving the horrendous winter weather in search of last minute gifts.

‘Because,’ explained Sirius with an air of exaggerated patience, ‘Prongs needs our advice and guidance to ensure he doesn’t buy the sort of pathetically awful present that will bring an end to his epic four week romance with Evans.’

‘But since Prongs doesn’t listen to anyone except you,’ objected Peter, ‘that still leaves the question of why Moony and I have to come along too.’

‘If I have to suffer Prongs’ borderline hysteria, then so do you,’ said Sirius, reaching the door of the Leaky Cauldron and opening it for his friends. ‘Misery loves company, y’know.’

James was waiting for them inside, sitting alone at a table in the corner of the pub and anxiously flicking through a pile of gift catalogues with the air of a man on the brink of dementia.

‘Prongs, old boy,’ cried Sirius cheerfully, ‘how goes it with the perfect gift search?’

‘Disaster,’ muttered James, ‘complete disaster.’

Sirius frowned. ‘I think Prongs may need a drink to steady his nerves,’ he announced, fishing a money bag out of his pocket and handing it to Peter. ‘Wormtail, if you’d do the honours?’

Half an hour and two pitchers of mulled crab apple cider later, James’ nerves did seem to have settled. He’d managed to extend his vocabulary beyond the word ‘disaster’ anyway. ‘Right, lads, have you all got your lists?’ he asked, pouring his fifth glass of cider down his throat.

‘Prongs, you do realise that it’s stretching the bonds of friendship a bit too far expecting us to do _homework_ before we come shopping, don’t you?’ said Sirius.

‘I’ve got mine!’ announced Peter proudly.

‘You, Wormtail, are a true friend,’ grinned James. ‘Let’s hear it then.’

Peter flushed happily and began to read. ‘List of Things That Girls Like: make-up—’

‘You can’t buy her make-up,’ interrupted Sirius. ‘That’s like saying she’s ugly or something.’

‘OK,’ mumbled Peter, turning back to his list. ‘Perfume.’

‘That’s even worse!’ exclaimed Sirius. ‘Are you trying to tell Evans that she _smells_?’

‘No,’ Peter huffed and looked a little indignant. When he went back to reading from his list, he spoke so quickly that no-one had the chance to interrupt. ‘Jewellery-kittens-chocolate-bubble baths-rainbows-gossiping-handbags-Sirius.’

‘Sirius?’ blinked Remus. ‘You think Prongs should give Padfoot to Evans as a Christmas present? I don’t think that’s a very good idea.’

‘I don’t mind,’ said Sirius generously, ‘if you want to wrap me in ribbon and present me to Evans. What are best friends for?’

‘I am not giving you to Evans for Christmas!’ raged James, looking confused and appalled. ‘Wormtail, have you gone completely nutters?’

‘You just asked for a list of things girls like,’ said Peter quietly.

‘Evans likes _me_ , not Padfoot!’ insisted James, banging the table in frustration. ‘And she does not want to wake up on Christmas morning to find him under the tree, gift-wrapped and tied up with a bow.’

‘To be fair, there probably are quite a few people who would,’ mused Remus thoughtfully. ‘Er, but not Evans, no,’ he added quickly as James started growling slightly. ‘In fact, since you’re so popular with girls-who-aren’t-Evans, why don’t you give us the benefit of your wisdom on what girls like, Padfoot?’

Sirius broke off from looking smug and laughing at James’ discomfort to give his answer. ‘The question is not “what do girls like?” as we are not buying a present for a girl,’ he announced grandly, ‘we are buying a present for Evans.’

‘But Evans _is_ a girl,’ said Peter, looking thoroughly perplexed.

‘Yes, yes, I know that,’ said Sirius testily. ‘But the point is, she isn’t just any girl, she’s Evans. So buying here just a generic girly present isn’t going to impress her. What she’d really like is something that is special, just for her.’

James stopped grinding his teeth and looked rather more cheerful. ‘Actually, that makes sense.’

‘And sounds really quite sensitive,’ said Remus, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. ‘Who have you been talking to?

‘Andromeda,’ admitted Sirius. ‘Had to owl her for advice, because frankly I haven’t got the least idea what it is that girls like. Except me, of course,’ he winked.

‘Strange creatures,’ muttered James.

‘Aren’t they just?’ replied Sirius cheerfully, oblivious to the insult. ‘This will make our task all the harder. So, I think we should practice,’ he continued, grabbing a bundle of the gift catalogues (some of them were a bit sticky with cider) and passing one to each of this friends.

‘Practice?’ queried James, raising an eyebrow.

‘Yes, Prongs, practice,’ said Sirius testily. ‘Before we attempt to choose the perfect romantic gift for Evans, we need to practice the choosing of romantic gifts.’

‘I don’t think Evans is going to be too impressed if she finds out that Prongs has been practicing his seduction technique on other girls,’ said Peter.

‘We’re not going to practice on girls,’ muttered Sirius absently as he flicked through a catalogue from _The Eros Emporium_ , ‘we’re going to practice on each other.’

The other three Marauders exchanged He’s Doing It Again looks. Sirius ignored them.

‘Right, now, see here,’ said Sirius at last, holding open the catalogue to show to his friends. ‘If I were of a mind to impress Wormtail, I’d buy him on of these.’

‘A Romance-all?’ said Remus, squinting at the catalogue.

‘Yup,’ said Sirius proudly, passing the catalogue to Peter. ‘It’s a sort of novelty remembrall, except there’s one of each of you, and it helps you remember all your favourite things about your beloved.’

‘And their _birthday_ ,’ whispered Peter in awed tones. Peter had only just got over the indignity of being dumped by Salma Braithwaite in September, for forgetting her birthday. There had been quite a nasty scene in the Great Hall—poor Peter still couldn’t look a baked apple in the eye. ‘It’s perfect.’

‘Isn’t it just?’ said Sirius smugly. ‘Prongs, on the other hand, would be putty in my hands if I were to get him one of these,’ he continued, holding open a page from _Beowulf’s Bodycare_ and pointing at the _Chasers Charmed: Quidditch Aftercare gift set_.

James picked up the catalogue and peered at it, a furrow appearing in his brow. ‘Padfoot, I really don’t think I like the idea of you giving me a set of massages oils.’

‘Yes, but what if it _Evans_ gave you it?’ grinned Sirius.

‘Ah, Evans,’ said James dreamily, adopting the faraway look that indicated he was thinking Impure Thoughts about flame-haired lovelies.

‘Close your mouth, Prongs,’ said Remus, ‘you’re likely to start dribbling.’

James coughed and shook himself forcefully. ‘Yes, right, of course,’ he mumbled.

‘Admiring my romantic gift choosing brilliance?’ suggested Sirius.

‘Yes, well, I suppose you were _quite_ good,’ conceded James. ‘But you haven’t done Moony yet. What would you buy for him?’

Sirius scratched his chin, looking at Remus thoughtfully. _What would impress Moony?_ he wondered. _A telescope, perhaps? He always has to use the school ones for Astronomy lessons. But no, anything associated with looking at the night sky might be a bit depressing. Hmmm…maybe a new jumper—a cashmere one... Cashmere would feel so lovely and soft against his skin…but maybe Moony would think it was a bit showy._ Sirius continued to stare at Remus for a long time, so long, in fact, that the other boy was starting to blush under the intense scrutiny. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted sadly at last.

Remus frowned—just a tiny bit, and cast his eyes downwards. The movement was hardly visible, but Sirius caught the flicker of disappointment across his face, and it made something deep inside him ache.

‘Clearly Padfoot’s losing his touch,’ declared James, turning pages in the gift catalogue. ‘I’d buy you this set of pine soaps, because the smell would remind you of the Forbidden Forest.’

‘That’s so sweet,’ said Remus, who was smiling again already. ‘I’d buy you the lemon scented ones, to remind you of the time we invented Lemonade Flavour Giggling Potion.’

‘Oh, happy day,’ said James fondly.

‘And for Peter,’ Remus continued, pouring over a leaflet from _Magic without Magic! Adventures with Muggles_ , ‘I’d arrange a trip in one of these hot air balloons. That way you can have all the fun of flying, but without having to worry about going too fast or falling off your broomstick.’

‘Going too fast and nearly falling off your broomstick _is_ all the fun of flying,’ insisted James hotly, but Peter was grinning, obviously delighted by the idea. ‘What about Padfoot, then? Or are you not going to bother with him because he couldn’t be arsed to get you a present?’

‘Of course I’d still get Padfoot a present,’ Remus smiled warmly. Sirius wondered if he maybe hadn’t had a bit too much cider, because his tummy suddenly felt all squiffy. ‘I, um…’ he trailed off, looking worried and a bit dejected. ‘I don’t know what I’d get for Padfoot, either,’ he admitted quietly. Sirius had to remind himself that it was only a game.

‘Hmmph, this is all very entertaining and all,’ said James, breaking the silence, ‘but we won’t find a present for Evans sitting around here and talking bollocks all day. What time is it anyway?’

‘Seven o’clock,’ said Peter, checking his watch.

‘Which means all the shops are shut,’ said Remus.

‘Bugger,’ muttered James. ‘Well, there’s nothing else for it, we’ll all have to come out and try again tomorrow.’

There was a collective groan around the table. ‘Perhaps some more drinks?’ suggested Sirius.

The rest of the evening was spent making a respectable attempt at drinking the Leaky Cauldron’s entire stock of crab apple cider, and coming up with increasingly bizarre and eccentric gifts. Sirius still couldn’t think of any appropriate present to seduce Remus, though he did think Peter’s suggestion of red silk panties had some merit, until he realised that Peter was talking about Lily. ‘Face it, Prongs, the only way you can be sure of getting into her knickers is if you buy them yourself.’

‘Oh, you are a cruel, heartless bastard,’ complained James, aiming a drunken swipe at Sirius’ head and missing by a couple of feet, causing Peter to giggle so hard he nearly fell off his chair. ‘Why must you mock me so?’

‘I’ve been helping, you ungrateful twat,’ retorted Sirius indignantly. ‘What do you think all the practicing was for?’

‘Practicing on each other is no bloody help at all,’ said James. ‘It’s easy to think of presents for you lot, because I don’t have to worry about what you think about me. But with Evans…’ he paused and sniffed melodramatically, ‘ah, dear, sweet Evans…it’s much harder to think of something for her because it’s important. I can’t joke about Evans’ present because _I love her_.’

Sirius would later be glad that Peter and James were both far too drunk to notice his jaw drop, or the fact that he was suddenly turning a fetching shade of crimson. He opened and closed his mouth uselessly a few times, and then glanced around the table anxiously. Remus—who was looking rather delightfully pink himself—refused to meet his eye.

‘Right then, come on you lot, haven’t you got homes to go to?’ Sirius was brought back to reality by the booming voice of Tom the barman throwing the last customers out of the pub.

‘Earth to Padfoot?’ said James, waving a hand in front of Sirius’ face. ‘C’mon, mate, time to go home.’

‘Yeah, right, of course,’ said Sirius, standing up shakily. ‘I, er…’

James looked at him and frowned. ‘Are you going to be all right going home on your own?’ he asked. ‘You could always come round mine if you like. Moony’s staying over anyway and you know Mum won’t mind one more.’

‘No, no it’s fine,’ said Sirius. ‘Just need to walk off the cider a bit. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?’

‘If you’re sure,’ said James, dragging Remus towards the fireplace. Sirius could just hear him muttering, ‘well, of course we have to Floo there, you idiot,’ as he pushed open the door to the Leaky Cauldron and stepped out into the blizzard.

Truth be told, Sirius wasn’t drunk at all. He’d just had the most sobering realisation of his entire life: he was in love with Remus Lupin.

~*~

_How the holy buggering fuck did that happen?_ Sirius wondered to himself as he trudged home through the bitter wind and snow. When and how had he ended up in love with Moony?

It wasn’t such a terrible shock that he’d fallen for a boy: a chance encounter with a Ravenclaw prefect on his way back from a truly horrendous date with Magdalena Marchbanks had settled the question of Sirius’ sexuality fairly decisively over a year ago. Sirius still maintained a fondness for the colour blue on account of it.

It wasn’t even so surprising that Sirius found himself _fancying_ Moony, not since Remus had come back from the summer holidays suddenly looking all sexy. Hair that had previously been mousy brown and unremarkable had grown silky-smooth and a delicious shade of caramel; skinny limbs and awkward bones had developed a delicate grace, and the freckles that had once looked odd and country-bumpkinish were now thrillingly kissable. Sirius didn’t understand how he’d done it, or why no-one else seemed to notice that Moony had become so devastatingly attractive that term. (He’d tried asking James if he’d noticed anything different about Remus, but James had just shrugged and said he was maybe a couple of inches taller.)

But love? That was just absurd. Blacks did not go around falling in love willy-nilly. Of course, Sirius was a Black in name only, but still… _Siriuses_ did not fall in love. Love was soppy and ridiculous, and made one behave like a dim-witted buffoon such as Prongs, pining and writing poetry like a madman. Sirius shivered and remembered to pull his mittens out of his pockets, thinking he wouldn’t mind walking home in the cold so much if Moony was there to hold his hand.

He was _doomed_.

~*~

The Potter family owl gave Sirius a rather rude awakening at 8 a.m. the next morning, following a night of new and very interesting dreams. Sirius fed it half a Newt Ginger while he unrolled the note on its leg, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he read.

_Padfoot,_

_Prongs has gone completely doolally. Have had to Stun him twice this morning already to prevent him having hysterics, and I’m sure Mrs Potter thinks I’m up to something._

_Urgent assistance required. Please help!_

_Moony_

_PS – I’m supposed to tell you to meet us outside Oxford Circus tube at 10 o’clock, as Prongs’ latest flight of lunacy involves Muggle shops. Perhaps you should contact the Ministry and have the Muggle Liaison Office put on standby? I foresee impending catastrophe._

Sirius finished the letter and, without thinking about what he was doing, dashed off a quick reply.

_Moony,_

_Prolonged exposure to Prongs in his current state will only damage your health. If you don’t want to end up as mental as he is, suggest you quit Potter Towers and stay at mine tonight. Will get Wormtail to take your place._

_Padfoot_

_PS – Confiscate his wand._

The owl carrying the note was already half way across London by the time Sirius realised what he had done.

~*~

Muggle London was, if possible, even worse than Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. By late afternoon James had been talked out of buying a battery-powered toy car, various ugly soft toys, a novelty cuckoo clock and several wholly inappropriate items of ladies underwear. (Sirius snuck back and bought the cuckoo clock himself while James wasn’t looking, just because he liked it so much.) They’d walked, by Sirius’ most conservative estimate, at least six million miles and had obviously visited _every single fucking shop in the entire city_ , because they ended up wandering around some street market.

Still, James’ love-sick rambling was the least of Sirius’ worries: it was his own love-sick stupidity that he was most concerned about. He could hardly look at Remus without blushing furiously, and his skin prickled whenever Remus so much as brushed past him. He kept finding himself sneaking sideways glances at his friend, grinning soppily, and getting all dizzy whenever Remus so much as half-smiled back. Sirius was fighting an ongoing inner battle to stop himself shoving Remus up against the nearest wall and snogging him silly. He was quite proud of his restraint (not a quality he was well known for), though he very nearly lost it when they stopped for lunch. (Because, really, why would Remus insist on getting hot chocolate foam on his upper lip if he _didn’t_ want Sirius to lean across the table and lick it off for him?) Sirius tried not to think about going back home with Remus once they’d finished shopping, because he really didn’t know how he was going to control himself without James and Peter around.

He was trying to distract himself from thinking about how nice Moony’s bottom looked in those trousers that were just a little too tight for him by carefully studying a stall selling comedy hot water bottles with Peter, when he was convinced that James had finally Lost It.

‘Evans!’ he cried, in a distinctly undignified fashion.

‘Yes, yes, Prongs, Evans,’ said Sirius, without looking up, ‘we haven’t forgotten why we’re here.’

‘Chance’d be a fine thing,’ muttered Remus from behind him. Sirius turned and grinned, and his heart did flip-flops when Remus winked at him.

‘No, Evans, here,’ insisted James, grabbing hold of Sirius’ sleeve and pulling him around. ‘See, over there!’

‘Prongs, please don’t tell me you’ve started hallucinate—oh, shit.’

James wasn’t quite at the stage of seeing things yet—the tell-tale sheen of red hair in the distance indicated that Lily Evans was indeed, against all the odds, in the same market as her love-sick, manic present seeking boyfriend. It was time for some quick thinking.

‘Right, this way,’ instructed Sirius, dragging James through the gaps between the stalls while the other two hurried after them. ‘Whatever you do, don’t let her see you.’

‘But, wha—’ stuttered James ineffectually.

‘Because,’ Sirius explained once they were away from the crowd, hiding behind one of the traders’ vans, ‘this is our perfect opportunity. I’ll follow Evans, find out what she likes, and report back to you.’

‘Why can’t I follow Evans?’ asked James indignantly. 

‘She’ll recognise you and know something’s up,’ said Sirius.

James huffed and folded his arms petulantly. ‘She’ll recognise you as well, fuckwit.’

Sirius rolled his eyes and transformed. ‘Oh,’ said James quietly. Padfoot let out a low bark that sounded suspiciously like a snort, turned around and padded off, hot on the scent of presents and Evanses.

It didn’t take long to hit the jackpot. After a quarter of an hour loitering while Lily and her friend bought chips from a van and some cheap tights, Padfoot saw the two girls head towards something sparkly. The jewellery stall.

‘Oh, those earrings are gorgeous,’ cooed the dark-haired girl, ‘what do you think, Lily?’

‘Mm, they’re all right, I suppose,’ answered Lily, ‘I prefer the bracelets though.’

‘What, the ones with the dolphins on?’

‘Nah, the flower ones are nicer,’ Lily insisted, pointing at a tray near the front of the stall, ‘especially that one.’

‘It is a lovely colour,’ agreed her friend. ‘How much are they?’

Lily leant over and looked at the price ticket. ‘Too much,’ she frowned. ‘Never mind, shall we go and look at the cake stalls next?’

Tail wagging, Padfoot raced back across the market, dodging small children and puddles of melting snow as he went.

‘Well?’ demanded James, the moment Padfoot arrived back.

‘Bracelet,’ said Sirius as soon as he was back in human form. ‘C’mon, I’ll show you.’

They hurried back to the jewellery stall, and Sirius indicated the tray of bracelets Lily and her friend had been admiring. ‘Which one?’ asked James.

‘The one with flowers on.’

‘But they’ve _all_ got flowers on,’ snapped James. ‘Which colour flowers did she like best?’

‘Well, I don’t know!’ huffed Sirius, folding his arms. He’d expected a little more thanks for his hard work.

‘Didn’t you look?’ James was nearly shouting with frustration. Remus tapped him on the arm, leaning over to whisper in his ear.

‘How was he supposed to see?’ he hissed. ‘Dogs are colour-blind.’

‘Oh.’ James looked sheepish. ‘I forgot. Sorry, Padfoot.’ Sirius just sniffed, but he was secretly delighted about Remus standing up for him.

‘Excuse me,’ said Remus politely, turning to speak to the stall keeper. ‘Did you notice a girl with red hair here a few minutes ago? She was looking at these bracelets.’

‘Yeah, I did as it happens,’ said the stall keeper. ‘Pretty little thing. She was right taken with the bluebell one, but didn’t buy it ’cos she thought it was a bit pricey. Shame I was busy with another customer, or I’d have given her a discount.’

‘The bluebells!’ crowed James, throwing his arms up in the air in victory. ‘I’ll take it,’ he told the stall keeper, grinning maniacally. ‘Remus Lupin, you are a complete fucking genius!’ James added, grabbing Remus by the arms and kissing him full on the mouth.

It took every ounce of self-restraint he possessed to stop Sirius punching James’ teeth right down his throat.

~*~

What would go down in Marauder history as the Shopping Trip of Doom ended with a slap-up meal in an Italian restaurant, marred only slightly by James’ attempts to convince the waiting staff to teach him Italian (‘the language of love!’) He did at least insist on buying his friends dinner, as a thank you for helping him to find ‘the gift that would secure the love of fair Evans forevermore.’ Remus was heard muttering the word ‘compensation.’

Sirius was much more relaxed after a few glasses of wine, and felt considerably less homicidal towards James once the latter assured him for the five hundredth time that Sirius was his ‘best mate in the whole fucking world’. (Though he spoilt the effect slightly by saying the same thing to the waiter who bought their drinks.) Nothing, however, could relax him enough to stop him being tense and nervous about being alone with Remus.

It was perfectly ridiculous, Sirius told himself, to get into such a silly little flap about spending time with someone he’d shared a dorm with for over six years. And yet, as they left the restaurant, he found himself suggesting that they Apparate back to his flat, because he was afraid that if they walked he really would end up asking Moony to hold his hand.

Things didn’t get easier when they got home. Sirius was all a-twitter, pacing up and down the living room and utterly failing to do or say anything sensible.

‘Padfoot, can you stop wandering about like that?’ said Remus from the sofa. ‘It’s making me nervous. And put your fire on, for the love of Merlin, its bloody freezing in here.’

Fighting back thoughts of much more interesting ways to keep Remus warm, Sirius lit the fire, glad of something productive to do for a minute.

‘And will you sit _down_ ,’ said Remus, pulling Sirius down onto the sofa next to him when Sirius starting hopping from one foot to the other, wringing his hands. ‘Why are you so jumpy?’

‘Um…’ Sirius faltered. _Because I’m hopelessly in love with you and I want to lick you all over_ was probably not a very sensible answer, but it was the only one he could think about right away. ‘I’m just excited,’ he managed at last, which was sort of the truth.

‘About Christmas?’ smiled Remus. ‘Waiting to see what Father Christmas has got for you?’

‘Father Christmas?’ queried Sirius, nonplussed.

Noticing Sirius’ lack of recognition, Remus, who had Muggle relatives, explained the story of Father Christmas, reindeers and all, to a fascinated Sirius. There had certainly been no place for Santa in Black family Christmases, and Sirius was enthralled to hear about Father Christmas, his little helpers, sleigh bells and Rudolph, Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Donner, Blitzen, Cupid and Comet for the very first time.

Listening to Moony talk made Sirius feel much happier: he relaxed back on the sofa, letting his friend’s voice wash over him and resting his head against Remus’ shoulder. He felt contented and warm, comfortably woozy, especially when Remus started stroking his hair, scratching him behind the ear.

‘How come I never got any presents from Father Christmas when I was little?’ he asked, draping his arm lazily over Remus’ waist.

‘Only good boys and girls get presents from Father Christmas,’ teased Remus lightly. ‘You must have been naughty.’

Sirius laughed softly and looked up at Remus, who was smiling at him affectionately. The light from the fire danced in Remus’ eyes, sparkling bright with wide, inky-black pupils. His cheeks wore the faintest flush of pink—from the fire, Sirius supposed. ‘I can be good,’ he whispered, hardly recognising his own voice as it came out, gravely and thick with need.

‘Is that so?’ asked Remus, the corners of his mouth twitching in a way that made Sirius twitch _all over_.

‘Yeah,’ Sirius murmured, all rational thought driven from his brain by the way Remus sucked his lower lip in just ever so slightly, making it full and dark and shiny and _oh…_

‘Yeah.’ Remus’ lips barely moved as he spoke the word, so low and husky. His face was mere inches away, and Sirius wasn’t sure how they had ended up so close, wrapped up together. He could feel Remus’ heartbeat and the gentle puffs of Remus’ breath against his face. If he just titled his head slightly to the side and leant forward…

The lightest brush of lips and Sirius drew back, eyes closed as he awaited the inevitable rebuke for his foolish impulsiveness.

‘Padfoot?’

Sirius forced himself to open his eyes. Remus was watching him intently: he looked nervous and surprised but—crucially—not angry.

‘I…’ Sirius began hopelessly, ‘um…’

Remus smiled, and Sirius felt his friend’s fingers running through his hair; Remus’ hand was on the back of his head, pulling him closer.

The second time was more like a proper kiss, gentle but insistent. Sirius shuddered as Remus’ lips parted against his own and felt dizzy when Remus’ tongue slipped into his mouth, the slow, almost shy, hesitancy of his movements making them all the more thrilling.

They kissed over and over again, lips pressed close and fingers trailing up and down arms, faces and hair, warmed by the heat of the fire and each other. Sirius felt exhilarated, terrified and complete all at once, and when he finally drew back again for air—because _fuck_ he could hardly breathe—the sight of Remus looking flushed with longing made him feel giddy. He wanted to tell Remus that he was the most perfect thing he’d ever seen, that Sirius adored him, was half out of his mind with lust for him, but he was too overwhelmed with desire to know where to start. Instead, he asked, ‘do you want to come to bed?’

Remus blinked, glancing around at the sofa—where he had no doubt been expecting to spend the night when he had accepted Sirius’ original invitation—with a delightfully confused expression on his face.

‘Do you want to come to bed _with me_?’ Sirius clarified.

Remus nodded vigorously and said, ‘yes,’ the word coming out in a gasp. Sirius grinned and stood up, offering Remus his hand to pull him up off the sofa. He fought back the urge to giggle as they walked through to the bedroom, feeling rather silly to be so absurdly excited by simple hand holding. He was almost embarrassed when they reached his bed, suddenly reluctant to turn around and look back at Remus. Eyes fixed on a the pillows in front of him, he pulled his wand out of his pocket and muttered a spell to change the lighting, leaving the room illuminated by the soft glow of a firefly bulb.

‘Very romantic,’ smiled Remus as Sirius turned to face him at last. Sirius bowed his head, feeling a furious blush rising to his cheeks. ‘I like it,’ Remus assured him, crooking a finger under Sirius’ chin and edging his face up. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he added in awe-struck tones.

‘So are you,’ Sirius replied, still not sure where his powers of verbal expression had disappeared to. He didn’t have long to think about it before Remus kissed him again, more firmly this time, his hands diving under Sirius’ t-shirt and stroking his chest and back.

Sirius lifted his arms to let Remus pull the t-shirt over his head, gasping as Remus’ hands groped every available inch of his torso and his mouth travelled across Sirius’ neck and shoulder. Sirius himself was all thumbs as he struggled with the buttons on Remus’ shirt, clumsy in his over-eager desire to divest Remus of his clothing as quickly as possible.

‘Here, let me,’ said Remus softly, placing his hands over Sirius.’ ‘Fuck, Padfoot, you’re shaking,’ he said as he held Sirius’ trembling fingers in his own. He hesitated: ‘We don’t have to,’ he said quietly. ‘Or not yet. It’s OK to be a bit…nervous.’

‘I’m not nervous!’ Sirius lied hotly, knowing that it didn’t matter how completely bloody terrified he might be (and he was), because he might actually _die_ if he didn’t get to have sex with Moony right away. Remus looked dubious. ‘I really, really want to,’ Sirius insisted breathlessly. ‘I want _you_.’

Remus let out a low growl and pushed Sirius backwards onto the bed, landing on top of him and kissing him fiercely. Sirius gave up on trying to unfasten Remus’ buttons and simply ripped them off, running faltering hands across Remus’ skin. He was harder than he had ever been in his life and could feel the impressive bulge in Remus’ trousers even through too-many layers of clothing.

Sirius gasped and arched his back as Remus lowered his head and started to move slowly down Sirius’ body, kissing, licking and nipping down his neck, across his chest and over his stomach. He sighed with relief when Remus unzipped his fly, releasing his aching erection, and lifted his hips obligingly to let Remus tug down his jeans and pants.

Moments later, Remus had yanked Sirius’ jeans over his feet and pulled off the remainder of his own clothing, nearly tripping over his own trousers in his haste. He crawled back up Sirius’ body, kissing and teasing as he went, hot and sensual and wonderful, but never enough to satisfy Sirius’ hunger for him.

Impatient as ever, Sirius pulled Remus towards him, eager to touch, taste, and feel _everything_. Remus felt warm and lithe against him, thrusting, gasping and _completely and utterly naked_ , which was breathtaking and amazing in itself. He used one hand to grasp at the taut muscles of Remus’ backside, urging him closer, while the other threaded through Remus’ sweat-damped hair as Sirius pulling him in for another kiss. Their kisses were hungry, passionate and Sirius hissed into Remus’ mouth as their cocks rubbed together.

‘So good, Moony,’ gasped Sirius, hips bucking wildly, frantically seeking out more friction. ‘So fucking good.’

‘Mmm,’ Remus whined in response, a desperate, high pitched squeak as he rubbed and pushed furiously. Sirius forced his hand between their bodies and grasped hold of Remus’ cock. It felt thick, hot and heavy against his palm as Remus thrust, hard, into his hand. Sirius tightened his fingers slightly, making Remus moan deeply before he came, throwing his head back and practically screaming.

Sirius had never heard anything like it, and the combination of the sound, the look of pure, wanton ecstasy on Remus’ face, and the flush of wet heat against his cock was enough to send him over the edge, shaking from head to foot and babbling, ‘Moony, Moony, Moony,’ as the shock of his own orgasm trembled through his body.

~*~

Afterwards, Sirius felt warm and sated, comfortably wrapped up beneath the blankets with Remus, limbs entangled so that Sirius hardly knew where he ended and Remus began: he didn’t want to have to ever find out. Remus sighed contentedly as Sirius pressed gentle, sloppy kisses to his face and hair, laughing softly when Sirius stifled a yawn against his ear.

‘Tired, Pads?’ he smiled. ‘Perhaps we should get some sleep.’

‘Don’t want to sleep,’ mumbled Sirius, swallowing another yawn as he trailed butterfly kisses down Remus’ temple. ‘Want to keep kissing you.’

‘I’ll still be here in the morning, you know,’ Remus told him.

‘Will you?’ Sirius bit his lip anxiously and sat up slightly. ‘I mean, it’s not just tonight is it?’

‘Of course not,’ Remus assured him, reaching up to stroke a strand of hair off Sirius’ face. ‘It’s…us.’

Sirius grinned and lay back down, greatly relieved that the moment of doubt had passed. ‘So, you’re not going to dump me because I couldn’t think of the perfect Christmas present for you?’

‘Idiot,’ murmured Remus affectionately. ‘I’ve already got what I wanted.’

‘Really?’ said Sirius, blinking up at him in sleepy bewilderment. ‘What was that, then?’

Remus laughed again and kissed Sirius on the nose, making Sirius go cross-eyed and have to shake his head to clear his vision. ‘I got _you_ ,’ he said.

‘Oh,’ said Sirius happily, resting his head on Remus’ shoulder and cuddling him as sleep finally started to overtake him. ‘So you did.’ He yawned heavily and pressed a final kiss to Remus’ neck. ‘Merry Christmas, Moony.’

‘Merry Christmas, Padfoot.’


End file.
